The Reality of Wright and Wrong Page 9

  She dropped her gaze to the floor, somewhere between where I stood and where she cowered. Without looking at me, she lowered her voice and said, “I just feel like I don’t know you. That’s all I was trying to say.”

  Seeing her so broken calmed the storm within until I could speak without raising my voice or making her retreat further into herself. “And you think that’ll somehow change by watching scraps of my life that have been cut and pasted together by someone else? Someone whose job it is to create drama for the sake of viewers and money?”

  Her eyes met mine.

  Her heart broke mine.

  But her soul…her soul soothed mine.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Defeat weighed heavily in her whispered words.

  I scrubbed my hands over my face, tired of answering the same question. But if that was what it took to keep her, then I’d repeat the truth time and time again. “The show ruined my marriage. It’s the reason Jessica sought attention elsewhere. She couldn’t handle it. On top of that, I’ve spent the last two years in a bubble, completely unaware of who around me was genuine and who wasn’t. Women come to my shop to get a tattoo in hopes they’ll leave with more. Do you have any idea how much money they are willing to pay to have me be the one to ink them versus any of the other guys in the shop?”

  She shook her head, her chest heaving with each labored breath.

  “And if I never see another tit or ass that isn’t yours again, I’ll be a happy man. It gets old, Mercy. That’s not what I want. You are what I want. I don’t need random hookups to pass the time. Or fake ass friends who only hang around to get on TV—or worse, the bragging right of knowing me. I need you.”

  “Then why do the show?”

  “I do it because I signed a contract, and it pays the bills. It affords me the opportunity to do things I never thought I’d be able to do. I grew up with nothing. Nonna gave me all she could, but still…it wasn’t much. I was approached with the idea of having cameras film the shop and maybe follow me around a bit, and I agreed. After the first season, they came to me with a contract that had a lot of zeroes on it. Things had literally just fallen apart with Jessica, so I signed on the dotted line. Didn’t think twice. Now…I’m just riding it out.”

  Mercy pulled in a long, desperate breath while dropping her head back. Her frustration clear as the day was long. “It’s so hard to explain what I’ve seen, because you haven’t watched it. And you refuse to believe anything I say. You pass it off as something else or excuse it as being edited to look a certain way. I concede on Bobblehead. I mean, I still think she’s in love with you, but I can’t be upset or jealous about something that happened before we met. However…you can’t lie about how broken you were during season two. After you and Jessica split.”

  There was so much to say, but I wasn’t sure she was ready to hear any of it. Instead, I allowed her to direct the conversation, while I stood back and answered, biding my time until I could paint the full picture for her.

  “I’m not denying that, Mercy. I’ve never pretended I wasn’t.”

  “You two were like Barbie and a tatted-up Ken. A pierced Romeo and his Juliet. You guys were the epitome of a perfect couple, and everyone knew it. Trust me…I’ve spent some time on Google. I’ve read the forums. Half of them had lost all hope in love, and the other half wanted to do very explicit things to your body. Things I won’t dare mention. But that’s not the point. The point is…I can’t compete with that. I can’t compare to that.”

  “People see what they want to see. I was torn up about it—I’ve told you that. For a while, I thought I had made the biggest mistake of my life. But I didn’t. If anything, I had to go through that to get to this point with you. And if that heartache led me here—if it led me to you—then I’d go through it ten thousand times again if I have to. If it means I get you in the end.”

  She nibbled on the inside of her cheek, her eyes on me, though not my face. And once a thought stuck in her mind, she parted her lips, rolled her shoulders back, and squinted at me. “Are you saying you love me?”

  I wanted to laugh. In fact, I had to steel myself to keep from smiling. We’d managed to fuck like pros, explore each other’s bodies and limits, desires, fantasies. Hell, we’d run off and gotten married. All without once uttering the word love.

  “Of course I do.”

  “No. Not like that. Like, love me for real.”

  I probably shouldn’t have, but I had to take a moment to contemplate my response. Not because I didn’t have an answer. But because my truth would have her flying out that door and never looking back. “I feel something real for you, something more real than I ever imagined I could feel for another person. Does that answer your question? Is that enough for you right now?”

  She nodded and ran her tongue along her bottom lip, leaving behind a glossy finish. “I told you I would come here and figure things out. And that’s what I plan to do. But I can’t do that while sleeping in your bed. There’s another part of this equation that you’re not considering…and that’s Jordan.”

  “I don’t see how he even deserves a second thought.”

  “We were engaged, Brogan. We were supposed to get married in less than three weeks from now. I left him, only to run off and marry someone else. All while he thought we were still together. Take yourself out of it for a moment and tell me he doesn’t deserve to be thought of.”

  “He cheated on you, Mercy. Just because he came back a week later and gave you some song and dance about how it was someone else doesn’t change that fact. His shirt being left at your house doesn’t change what you saw.”

  “I know. Trust me, Brogan…I’m aware of this. I guess I didn’t expect him to fight for me. I thought he’d realize he’d been caught and just quietly disappear. But he didn’t. And not only is he fighting for me, saying he’s willing to get past this”—she motioned between the both of us—“but he’s also telling me that the whole reason I ended up in your bed to begin with was false.”

  I realized, right then and there, that if I wanted to win, I’d have to give her what she wanted—time and space. Two things I never wanted her to have. But this was more about her than me or her ex. Somehow, she would have to come to terms with her actions. And until she did that, she would never be mine. She’d forever live in that dead space filled with regret and doubt. That was the last thing I wanted for her.

  “Okay. Fine. Do what you have to do, Mercy.”

  But that didn’t mean I had to stand around and watch her push me away.

  I walked out of the room, leaving her and her suitcases behind. However, I didn’t leave the premises. Instead, I went to her car, unloaded the rest of what she’d brought with her—four more boxes were coming in the mail—and then moved her car down to the garage. The rest of the evening was spent on the couch, watching TV, while she tiptoed around.

  There was something to be said about walking on eggshells.

  Sweeping them up would be far faster and more effective.

  9

  Mercy

  “I guess I don’t understand why you can’t stay at a motel or something. Why his house?” Jordan fought to contain his anger, and he’d done a decent job of it. Until now.

  I’d kept in touch with him over the last couple of weeks, though I hadn’t been entirely honest about everything. While he knew I’d planned to move to town either way, I’d conveniently left out that it was sooner rather than later…or that it had already happened. Also, while he knew I had a lot to think about, he wasn’t fully aware that my main decision had come down to a guy. I’d let him assume my struggles lay with whether I believed him or not, and if we’d be able to get over my “indiscretions.”

  He probably would’ve made that choice for me had he known I’d been in town for a few days and only just called this morning to meet up for lunch. Granted, he hadn’t asked me how long I’d been there, so technically, I hadn’t lied.

  “Well, considering I can’t afford an extended stay a
t a motel, that wasn’t an option. You two are the only ones I know well enough in the area to stay with. And regardless of the situation, he’s legally my husband. Staying with you is a legal issue I don’t care to deal with.”

  “A legal issue?” He opened his eyes wide and leaned on the table. It was a good thing the waiter had already come for his salad bowl; otherwise, he’d be wearing ranch all over his tie right about now. “Shouldn’t you be getting the marriage annulled?”

  I used to live such an uncomplicated life.

  “You don’t understand, Jordan.” I set my elbows on the table and held my head in my hands, allowing my hair to act as a curtain and protect me from seeing his face. “Until I figure my shit out, I can’t make any decisions.”

  “So your plan is to string me along until you decide which guy you want?”

  I glared at him. “No. Of course not.”

  “Then tell me. What is it you’re doing to figure your shit out?”

  Frustrated, I couldn’t bite my tongue any longer. “Why don’t you tell me something, Jordan? How long did it take before you noticed the ring by your front door? How is it that you managed not to see it for days?”

  “I told you, it was late when I got home that night. I wasn’t paying attention when I tossed my keys to the table, and it must’ve knocked it onto the floor. I didn’t find it until after I got back from Ohio and looked. How was I supposed to know it’d be there? Why would I have even thought to look for it?” It was obvious he didn’t like the accusations I’d slung at him with my question. “And I certainly didn’t expect you to run off and marry a complete stranger.”

  I glanced around the patio, making sure the few other people dining outside weren’t eavesdropping, and then leaned closer. “It’s not like I woke up one day and thought the idea of shacking up with some random guy for a week before marrying him sounded like a good time. All of this started because of something I saw at Rulebreakers. None of that would’ve happened had I not seen what I did that night.”

  “So you’re saying this is all my fault?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” I sighed and dropped my head back for a moment, letting the heat of the sun bathe me in a soothing peace before meeting his gaze and continuing. “I’d say that situation was the catalyst.”

  “But it wasn’t me.” If he could look me in the eyes and lie, that was on him.

  I just prayed that wasn’t what he was doing.

  It would sicken me to know I’d spent so many years with a man who could do that.

  “You say it wasn’t. My memory says it was. I’m trying to figure out which one’s telling the truth. Because I would never forgive myself if I listened to my gut, only to find out it was wrong. To know I’d hurt you beyond repair, all because I didn’t look deep enough. At the same time, I could never be with a man who’d so easily forget me when I was away.”

  He wiped his fingers around his mouth and leaned back in his chair. With one hand on the armrest, the other in his lap, his body lopsided in the seat, he regarded me. Such arrogance. The sad part was, I used to think it was confidence. Now, it left me unsettled.

  “Admit it, Mercy. It’s more than trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth or not. If that’s all it is, then you wouldn’t be here. You’d be in Ohio, taking the time to figure it out. And you would’ve already filed to have that marriage annulled. That fact that you’re here, and you haven’t done a damn thing to reverse your marital status, proves that, at the bottom of all this, you’re deciding between me and him.”

  I couldn’t exactly deny that. Nevertheless, I didn’t care to acknowledge it, either.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have much choice. He didn’t offer me one.

  “Ultimately, yes. That’s what I’m doing. Because if it turns out that you really were there that night, and you really were with another woman, then I have no desire to leave him.” My throat burned as each word vacated my mouth. It felt like a lie, though I didn’t understand.

  Jordan simply nodded and turned his attention toward the street.

  “Listen…” I took a deep breath, hoping it would settle my overwrought nerves. Anxiety flowed through my veins, and I couldn’t begin to comprehend what had triggered it. I just knew I had to wrap this up and leave. “I have zero desire to drag this out. I don’t plan on stringing anyone along—you or him. This isn’t a choice of which guy I want more. Everything went to hell in a handbasket the moment I walked into Rulebreakers. Now, I’m just trying to figure out how to piece it all back together without losing a part of myself.”

  “You spent, what…one week with him? And there’s even a question in your mind that you might lose a piece of yourself if you leave him? Are you listening to what you’re saying, Mercy? Do you hear how utterly ridiculous you sound?”

  If I gritted my teeth any harder, I’d likely break a molar. “He’s also called and texted me every day. Multiple times a day. I think it’s fair to say that I heard from him more in a twenty-four-hour period than I have from you since the night I found you in my apartment.”

  “Funny…because I haven’t heard much from you, either.”

  “Then why do you want to be with me? What are you fighting for?”

  He tossed his napkin on the table and leaned to the side to reach his wallet in his back pocket. “Looks like we both have some things to think about, huh?”

  I sat in silence while he removed two twenties from his billfold and slid them beneath the saltshaker. And it was all I could do to form a smile as he stood from his chair, nodded, and then left me there, all alone.

  Just me and my thoughts.

  By the time I got up to leave, I’d come to a realization—this was never about who I saw in the club that night. It wasn’t even about which man I wanted to be with. At the end of the day, I didn’t care who was on that dance floor; the truth wouldn’t change anything. And I didn’t need to choose between Jordan or Brogan; I already had.

  My issue was with myself.

  Whether or not I could emotionally handle living in Brogan’s world.

  I arrived at the house later than anticipated, greatly in part to getting lost. As much as I loved the privacy and abundance of nature, it was damn near impossible to find my way back if I accidentally took a wrong turn.

  I hadn’t thought it would be a big deal since Brogan worked odd hours at the shop. That was one thing I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to—if I ended up sticking around. The last time I was here, I’d had him all to myself for an entire week. Now, I was lucky if I got to see him four hours a day. I couldn’t be sure, but over the last couple of days I’d been in town, I’d wondered if his absence had more to do with my presence than his schedule at the shop.

  However, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to ask.

  To my surprise, I opened the garage door and found Brogan’s Jeep parked inside. I could’ve sworn he’d mentioned working late tonight, which meant around midnight, but maybe I’d misunderstood. However, the one thing I didn’t misunderstand was how my body relaxed at the knowledge of him being home.

  The house was quiet when I walked in. At first, I thought about checking to see if he was in his bedroom, but then I figured I’d wait it out. I needed to pee and change out of my clothes anyhow, so it made more sense to get that done first.

  With my jeans off and tossed into the basket next to the closet, I moved into the en suite bath in nothing but a shirt that barely covered my panties. And as soon as I flipped on the light, I stilled. In awe.

  On the mirror was a message. Written in what looked to be a blue dry-erase marker.

  Tied to the mast of a drifting ship was I,

  My wheel lost, years before in a tempest of my own design.

  Tossed was I from shallow bay to shallow bay by the silent storm of solitude,

  Sanctuary escaped me.

  To the heavens, I cried for mercy.

  When dawn broke on new life's day I saw her then,

  Perfect yet damaged, whole yet...mi
ssing,

  A puzzle yearning to be solved,

  Her pieces scattered, lost?

  The only clue, a vision on my soul.

  And her name was Mercy.

  I must’ve read it thirty-seven times, trying to figure out what it meant. I traced the slanted lines of the letters with my eyes, the places along the loops where the marker grew thinner. The curve of the commas. The harshness of each period, as if he’d stabbed the mirror with the blue, felt tip. I broke it down and read each verse by itself. Then two at a time. Then the whole thing from start to finish.

  My eyes were dry, though my soul wept.

  Not caring that I hadn’t used the restroom or washed my face. Or even put on pants. I ran out in search of Brogan, finding him in the kitchen with his back to me. My ears rang, so I couldn’t tell if I was just really quiet, or if he hadn’t turned to face me on purpose.

  I opened my mouth to speak, and nothing came out.

  No sound.

  No word.

  Not even a cry.

  Keeping my eyes on Brogan, I took a moment to organize the unraveled parts of myself so that I might make sense when I found my voice. My emotions had been slain, hacked up into tiny pieces that riddled the floor around me like tarnished bits of glitter. My thoughts had been split in half until my mind became filled with incomplete notions.